Beside A Stream
by AboardAMoose
Summary: After the fight with Azog and the Wargs, Thorin's badly hurt, but hides it from the rest of the company. Only Kíli notices, and convinces Thorin to allow him to take care of him. Some classic hurt/comfort. With added gratuitous stream bathing. Warning: Durincest, nothing heavy. You've been warned. Oneshot.


The others in the company might tease him from time to time, and make him the subject of their pranks and games because he was the youngest, but Kíli was not stupid. His eyes were keen, and he rarely missed a trick, even if he allowed them sometimes. What he saw this time made him fear.

Though the others in the group focused upon traversing the treacherous track down from the perch the Eagles had thoughtlessly dropped them on, Kíli was somewhat more nimble, less likely to stumble, and had the attention to spare for the injured dwarven prince. Though Thorin might insist he was well, insist he could cope, it was quite abundantly clear that, the former at least, was not the case. If one used one's eyes.

A hunch bowed Thorin's normally proud shoulders, only slightly, but Kíli had spent more time than he ought studying that spread of broad musculature, and knew Thorin's stature remained sharp even when the elder dwarf was fatigued after marches of many days and nights. Only harsh pain, beyond Thorin's impressive skill to ignore, could bow them so. Thorin also could not control his breath to perfection, despite his iron will. An unexpected, slight stumble on the soft rock made Thorin give the softest gasp, that could easily have been taken as surprise, but when every breath Thorin took was more laboured both than it ought to be and the last, surprise was not Kíli's interpretation. The most definitive sign showed in Thorin's face, his eyes. Creases had deepened, shadows had darkened, and his eyes were dull. Those things only showed when they walked. When the company took short rest stops, it merely appeared as if Thorin brooded – which was not a rare occurrence. No one questioned, no one glanced more than once, save for Kíli.

It would have shamed Thorin deeply had his nephew spoken aloud of the knowledge he had gleaned, that Kíli knew well enough. So he did all he could, though it was little – calling for rests more frequently than the norm, when he saw Thorin growing pale, and assuring attention was diverted from his Uncle, with more than his usual jovial antics. His brother peered at him curiously when he forced conversation and jokes, but he alone took notice. The rest of the companions were too tired to notice. Even Gandalf could be heard to sigh as they rose from a rest, to trudge down the slope once more.

As the Sun set beyond the forest, bathing the tree leaves in scarlet, purple, and eventually darkening them beyond clear distinction, they stumbled at last onto turf once more. Even those most wearied by the long descent cracked smiles at finding themselves safe; solid dirt beneath their boots. A half-hearted bustle followed, with a venture for fire wood, and a few early crab-apples. Too tart, but something. The small expedition that returned with kindling and their measly meal also returned with news of a nearby stream. In small groups, the dwarves, wizard and hobbit sought out the water to wash from themselves the stench of sweat and goblin filth, until only Thorin and Kíli remained unclean.

Kíli, who had claimed to not have the energy to wash, stood and declared, "I have changed my mind – this muck is be coming bothersome. I will go to the river."

"You should not go alone," Balin said at once. "Not in strange parts."

"All these lands are strange parts," Óin muttered.

"But I am sure we would all appreciate it if you were to get clean – I don't mean to offend, but you and Thorin hardly smell of roses," pointed out Dori.

Bilbo chuckled, but he was the only one to do.

"Perhaps Dori is right," Gandalf said. "Thorin -"

Slowly, Thorin looked up from where he had been watching the dance of the flame. "Not for the sensibilities and sensitivities of Dori, but to ensure my nephew does not fall in, I will also go to the stream."

The darkness hid Kíli's smile, as Thorin got to his feet.

000

No sooner were they out of earshot of the company, did Kíli take his silent Uncle by the elbow, stopping him in his tracks, and stated, "You no longer need to wear that mask. I know you are not recovered from your hurts, and I would help you if you would let me."

"How would you help me when I do not require assistance?" Thorin wrenched his elbow from Kíli's grip, and continued to tramp forwards.

"I am not ignorant of healing, I have studied enough, and I have learned well." Haughtily held shoulders gave no reply, and Thorin made effort to stand entirely straight and tall, but Kíli was not one to be put off by stubbornness. "There is no pride to be found in suffering needlessly." Still Thorin gave no answer, but as the stream approached, Kíli demanded, "How do you propose to hide a back full of bruises from me when you strip to bathe?"

At last, Thorin stopped, and glared at the younger dwarf. "I have had worse injury than this and marched for leagues, at faster pace than this morning's dawdle."

Kíli nodded, pleased at least that Thorin was making eye contact with him from beneath slightly dirt-matted hair. "I would never cast doubt on your stamina, nor your ability. It is merely that it is not wise to have to have a leader slightly less than at his prime. Indeed, it is a danger to the less experienced members of the company. So truly, it could be seen as a selfish act by myself." He offered up a smile. "I would not tell the others."

A struggle played across Thorin's face, but eventually, he nodded. "Very well. I see it is wisdom. I shall allow you to... Take a look."

They sat by the riverside, Thorin perching on a stone damp with cold. He removed his cloak, and folded it carefully by the side. Kíli's fingers itched, desiring to assist his Uncle, to undo those buttons, remove that mail, the undershirt, and finally reveal the skin beneath. But he knew that Thorin would not take well to being treated at an invalid. He also knew that, without assistance, Thorin would take some time to remove his heavy armour. To prevent himself from staring, Kíli stripped off his own many layers, down to his thin underbreeches, and waded into the stream. The water was so cold it bit at his skin, and brought every sensation into absolute clarity. It stung, but it was so good to feel the grime slipping away.

Kíli rubbed at his lightly-haired skin to encourage the dirt off, and as he did so, gazed up at the stars. The trees were dense all around, but the stream was wide enough to allow the starlight through. A rare moment of soberness overtook him. To think, he might never have seen those stars again, thrice over since leaving Rivendell, just two nights before. The giants, the goblins, the Wargs... He shook himself to rid his mind of those thoughts, and just to banish any lingering morbidity, stuck his head beneath the water, to wash out his hair.

As he surfaced, he finally recalled his reason for being in the stream, and turned to the rock upon which he had left Thorin. Yet no dwarf sat there, merely a pile of draped clothes. Kíli scanned the trees, before turning about in the waist-high water and...

"Oh..."

From beneath the water, Thorin rose, head thrown back to clear his eyes of hair. The long, soaking mane hit Thorin's back with a muffled slap, and Thorin ran one hand through it to push away a few remaining strands.

Kíli moved forwards, carried by the current, until he could see rivulets of water running over clearly defined muscles, droplets clinging to the forest of dark curls on Thorin's chest, eyes that gazed at him, with steely intensity. He had been this unclothed in Thorin's presence before, but never had he felt this exposed, naked beyond his skin, as when Thorin stared at him so.

"Thorin," he found himself whispering, raising a hand towards the elder dwarf's face. But Thorin caught him by the wrist before he could touch, and the moment was broken, snapped. Flustered, Kíli glanced away, and found himself looking at deep, lengthwise cuts on Thorin's forearm, raw but just clotted. "Your arm..."

"I caught it in the fight," Thorin muttered.

Lifting his chin, Kíli ordered, "Ensure you wash it out well before you get out." He turned, and hastened to the shore.

By the time he was dry, and mostly reclothed, Thorin too had returned to dry land. He turned his back on Kíli to reach for his breeches, before, somewhat reluctantly, taking a seat and saying, "Do what you must."

"I'll do what I can," Kíli corrected him. "I'm hardly well equipped, but that should not be a surprise." He stepped up, until he was behind his Uncle. "You fell on your back, and it looked as if it was that which caused you most pain."

"I did not fall, I was thrown," Thorin grumbled. "There is a large difference."

Kíli chuckled, "I do apologise," but as he pushed aside Thorin's thick, wet hair to study his back in the light of the brand they had lit their way with, his humour died. A mass of dark bruises had bloomed across Thorin's back,and when Kíli touched them without warning, Thorin flinched. "I need to check you haven't broken anything," Kíli told him quietly, "It is going to hurt."

"I can manage," Thorin told him, but he was tense. Gently, Kíli ran his thumbs across Thorin's shoulders, more of a caress than anything else. Just feeling the smooth, cool skin in the dark.

"You need to relax if you can." Kíli did not pressure him about it, merely offered a light joke. "I won't make it worse, I promise."

Thorin did not laugh, but he did give a lengthy exhale, and some of the tension dissolved. Carefully, Kíli began to explore Thorin's torso, pressing and pushing to discover the damage that monster had wrought upon his Uncle. When he found somewhere that hurt particularly badly, he could tell – the base of Thorin's ribcage on his back,beneath his heart, made Thorin catch his breath. His left shoulder blade drew a hiss. The worst was when Kíli made his way to the front. Just slight pressure upon a fist-sized patch on Thorin's chest made him grip the rock on which he sat tighter. When Kíli explored with a little more force, Thorin could not repress a short, guttural "Ah-!"

The noise made Kíli raise his eyes to Thorin's face, and found the elder dwarf looking down at him, pain openly spread across his face, twisting his features slightly. Thorin's strength had captured Kíli's attention, but that moment of honesty, triggered something else.

Kíli raised on his knees,and slipped a hand against Thorin's neck, beneath his hair. "Thorin..." Then he was leaning in, and his eyes were closing... And then there were rough lips, and the scratch of Thorin's beard, and heat soaring in his stomach, because Thorin was kissing him back, and it was deep, and desperate, and breathless, and...

"Kíli!"

Thorin jerked away, and Kíli realised with a rush of shame that he had been pressing Thorin closer with his hand at the back of Thorin's head, where an egg-sized lump lay. A rather large consequence of slamming one's head against rather hard rock.

"I-I... Sorry, erm..." Kíli stepped back, out of Thorin's personal space. A breath of night air, and he explained, "You have four definitely cracked ribs, and perhaps a couple more. I need to bind them. Without ointments, I can't do much for the bruising, the pain, or your arm. Maybe in the morning when I can see for herbs. I... I'll just. Do that."

As Kíli tore one of his own shirts into strips, Thorin was silent. As Kíli bound his chest tight, Thorin was silent. As Kíli gestured the rest of their belongings and headed towards their encampment, Thorin was silent. Only as they drew in sight of the fire, did Thorin growl Kíli's name. At once, the younger dwarf stopped, and turned, with rising dread.

"Yes, Thorin..."

"I should imagine," Thorin started carefully. "It would be wise for you to check on my progress. That things are healing well. As they ought. Perhaps tomorrow night."

"The bones won't have begun to – oh!" Kíli exclaimed as he realised the implication of Thorin's words. "Oh. Yes. I can do that."

"Once the others are abed?"pressed Thorin.

Kíli grinned, "Of course, of course." There was a new spring in his step as he walked towards the camp, and even Thorin walked a little lighter.


End file.
